No need to exaggerate – life is strange enough as is.

Finding the ‘Perfect’ Place – Part II

June 1, 2011

“C’mon woman – Let’s get this show on the road!” I was not looking forward to a door-to-door search. My Dad would have said, “Let’s git to gittin'”, but gittin’ just didn’t sound right this far from the Arizona desert.

We walked the beach. Found a place or two – but they were at the high end of the palatial estate range at $5600/month. Nope. That won’t do. The problem with scenic vistas is that there aren’t any apartments mucking up the view.Defeated and slightly sunburned (yes – even though we’re the color of oiled teak after years in Key West sun – 13 degrees and 30 minutes latitude makes for a crispy critter if one spends more than an hour or two in direct sunlight), I retired to the computer to dig up a fresh batch of prospects. This place looked promising – until we figured out one was renting a hotel room at high end apartment prices. Less than 500 square feet? Not so much.

I though we’d scored on the following property:until we hopped in the car. Even though the address indicated the complex was in the right area – it was on Agat Bay just below the hospital. No beach – just coral bluffs. The Pheebs, eyballing some of the sketchier apartment complexes on the way there, said matter-of-factly:

“I’m not living there.”

“Look, woman – we have to live somewhere.” I was nearing my graceful/accommodating limit. “We’re going to pick a place TODAY.”

“You can live wherever the hell you want – I’m living on the beach or I’m going home!” If she was standing, she would have stamped her foot and slapped her thigh – a Pheebish thing to do. Normally, this is very endearing (it has to be after 25 years; I’d go buggy otherwise), but patience was being tested.

“Alright. Let’s go get something to eat and think about this.”

We drove to the center of the Tumon Bay area, and snagged a salad at the California Pizza Kitchen (CPK). In a land where barbecue and Bud Light reign, it’s nice to get a little lettuce and a Corona. Dejected, I sat there munching salad and taking pulls on a Corona with lemon. Yes – lemon. Limes are expensive, so the restaurants substitute. Yes – it does suck; I don’t recommend it.

“Hey! What about that place?” The Pheebs motioned over my shoulder…

Have you ever seen the scene in ‘It’s a Mad, Mad, Mad World’, where they’re frantically looking for the ‘W’ which marks the spot the money is buried? They pass it a half dozen times, only to realize almost all at once the palm trees make the ‘W’?

Well — that’s what happened when I turned to look over my shoulder.

The place was directly across from CPK – we’d passed it at least a dozen times on our way to/from inland apartments. I had trouble keeping up with the Pheebs as she hurried across the parking lot.

“Got an available apartment?”, I asked the manager hopefully.

“Sure – wanna see it?

“Is the Pope German?” He looked at me quizzically. “Yes, I want to see it!”

The manager took us to an upper level unit which had never been occupied. The owner had converted an old hotel to luxury apartments, finishing them with ceramic floors, granite counters…new everything. It was in the budget, too. We opened up the doorwall to the balcony, and:

Yeah. That’s what we had in mind, right there!

“You wanna see the facilities, man?” The manager wanted to show off his place.

“Sure!”

Once again, the Pheebs led the way.

While the back of her head looks good, the view is even better.

So… we took the place.

“See! I told you we’d find a place!” the Pheebs was all smug and happy, as she was right for the bazillionth time since we’ve been together.

“Yes, dear.” I’ve learned there are but two simple rules to a successful marriage from a man’s point of view:

1. You’re wrong.

2. Whenever you think there’s even the slightest change of being right – refer back to Rule #1.